


Lyle & the Beast

by celeste9



Series: Fairy Tales [3]
Category: Primeval
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Angst, Curses, Fairy Tale Retellings, M/M, Minor Violence, Romance, Swordfighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-20
Updated: 2013-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-27 03:56:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/974025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeste9/pseuds/celeste9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he trespasses on the grounds of a castle, Lyle is forced to remain there as punishment. The castle's occupant is not what he expects. (Beauty & the Beast!AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for trope bingo, au:fusion. Thanks to fififolle for the beta and to fredbassett for the loan of Lyle (and Ditzy, Blade, Finn, Stringer, and Kermit).

“Are you sure this is where the trail leads?” Lyle asked, gazing sceptically at the ivy-covered walls stretching up before them. The castle beyond looked old and in disrepair, the sort of place that probably had ghosts roaming the dark halls. That is, if Lyle believed in ghosts.

Ryan nodded. “Afraid so. We’ll have to go in.”

Lyle walked to the barred gate and yanked on it, with little success. “Think we’ll have to find another way in.”

Scanning the area quickly, Ryan pointed out a tree with a sturdy, overhanging branch. “If we climb to that branch, we should be able to drop over the side. Lyle… I know I shouldn’t ask you to--”

“Don’t even think about it. I’m not letting you have all the fun.”

Ryan smiled faintly and began climbing the tree, leaving Lyle to follow after him. He levered himself out onto the branch and then dropped without hesitation, landing safely on the ground.

“If I break my leg, you’re carrying me,” Lyle called down. But as he landed, he leaned forward and went into a roll, taking most of the pressure off his legs. It wasn’t quite as graceful as Ryan’s landing, but nobody’s perfect. He got to his feet, watching Ryan pick up the trail again.

They had been tracking a mysterious beast that had appeared just outside the village, come through one of the otherworldly portals that opened up periodically. It was reptilian, with long, slender hind legs and a tail, though it couldn’t have stood taller than a metre or so. It had run rather than attacked, seemingly spooked by all of the noise, and Ryan and Lyle had tracked it over a distance.

Which led them to the abandoned castle they now found themselves in.

“Here,” Ryan murmured, keeping his voice low as he moved forward.

Their boots crunched across fallen leaves, an unfortunate occurrence if they wanted to catch the creature unawares. A sharp cry rang out and Ryan and Lyle shared only a momentary glance before running in the direction of the sound.

What they found was the creature on the ground, slain, and a dark shape huddled over it. Lyle could see long fingers with wicked, sharp claws dripping blood. He put his hand on the hilt of his sword.

The shape straightened into what was vaguely a man, tall yet stooped, hooded in a black cloak. They could not see its face but the claws were very much in evidence. When it spoke, it spoke with the voice of a man, though low and hoarse as if it was unused to speech. “You have trespassed.”

“We beg your forgiveness,” Ryan hesitated, “sir. We came in search of the creature you have killed. We did not think.”

“Did you not see the locked gate?”

“We thought this place was deserted.”

“As you can see, it is not. This is my home.”

“Our apologies,” Ryan said again. “We thought only to catch the creature before it could do any harm.”

That statement seemed to catch the being somewhat by surprise and it studied them before speaking again. “There are laws against trespassing in this land.”

“And we will accept whatever punishment you see fit.”

The being was silent for a long while, his shining eyes seeming not even to blink. “You have sought entrance to this place, so as payment for your sin you will remain here for all of your days. However, because you did not realise your mistake and because I believe that your intentions were honourable, I will give you a choice. One of you may go free. You may tell me of your decision when you have made your choice.” He fell silent once more, watching them in a rather disconcerting manner.

Lyle could only stare at Ryan, seeing his own despair etched on Ryan’s face. To live in this gloomy place forever, with this… this demon, or beast, or whatever it was. When Ryan spoke, Lyle knew what he would say.

“I will stay.”

“Ryan, no,” Lyle said immediately.

“It was my decision,” Ryan said. “I was the one who led us here and I was the one who insisted upon scaling the wall. You are in my command, Lyle, and I will protect you.”

“And what would you like me to say to Claudia when you do not come home?”

Ryan winced, looking stricken. “I don’t know. Tell her what you like, tell her the truth. Tell her... I’m sorry.”

“You can tell her yourself because damned if I’m going to let you sacrifice yourself for me. Go home to your wife and be happy.”

“Lyle--”

Lyle offered a half-smile. “I have no one to miss me.”

“I can’t let you do this.”

“Yes, you can. You will, for the sake of your wife.”

Ryan’s struggle played obviously across his face but Lyle could see in his eyes that he would agree. He grasped Lyle’s shoulder. “I won’t forget what you have done for me.”

Lyle rested his hand over Ryan’s for a moment, saying softly, “It’s all right.”

It wasn’t, but there was nothing to be done. Drawn-out goodbyes would only make it worse and Lyle had never been much for sentiment.

“Tell--” Lyle hesitated. Who was there even worth giving a message to? Lyle had not been lying when he said there would be no one to miss him. “Just tell the lads goodbye, I suppose. Tell Richards he’d better have your back now I won’t be around, and tell Claudia I expect her to keep on doing the admirable job she’s done of taking care of you.”

Ryan’s face spasmed, like he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to make a joke or start shouting, but then he only nodded. “Goodbye, Lyle.”

“Goodbye,” Lyle echoed, and watched as Ryan faded into the darkness. Ryan had been Lyle’s best friend, the closest thing he had to family since his mother had passed, and he would likely never see the man again. Actually, he hoped never to see him again as if he did, it would only mean Ryan had done something stupid he shouldn’t have.

“Come with me.”

Lyle nearly jumped at the voice. He had almost forgotten the presence of the - the beast, the being, his keeper. “Lead on,” he said, waving a hand.

The being turned, his cloak swirling around his legs, and began walking, leaving Lyle to follow. His steps were carefully measured and slightly halting, as though even walking pained him. Lyle wondered if he had been injured.

“So what should I call you?” Lyle asked.

After a moment of silence, the being said, “You may call me Becker.”

“Okay. Becker it is. Pleasure to meet you. I’m Lyle, by the way.”

“I know who you are.”

“Because that’s not creepy,” Lyle muttered.

“Your friend referred to you by name.”

“Oh. Right.”

The path across the grounds was winding, but Lyle could make out very little in the darkness. They walked up a series of stone steps, beginning to crack with age, to come upon the high walls of the castle itself. The dark stone was covered in ivy, though not as thickly as the outer gates. The big, wooden double doors swung open at merely a touch from Becker.

Inside, candles burned in sconces on the walls, lighting the halls with dim, flickering light. Becker removed a torch to carry, leading Lyle through. They passed beautiful paintings under thin layers of dust, landscapes, mostly, and marble statues in niches.

Becker led him into a large dining hall, a fire crackling merrily in a fireplace. The long table had been set and dishes of food were steaming, roasts and vegetables and fresh bread, along with tankards of ale as well as wine. Lyle’s mouth watered a bit just looking at it, though it raised a few questions. Namely, where were all the servants?

“Is this place manned with ghost servants?” Lyle joked.

Becker’s face remained hidden in the depths of his hood but it wasn’t a stretch to assume he was not amused. “There are enchantments upon this castle. I have no need for servants.”

That was possibly worse, Lyle decided. He hated magic. Some friendly ghosts that went around setting tables, that he could deal with. Magic? That made him antsy. It was going to be a long forever in this place.

“Sit down,” Becker told him.

Lyle sat. Didn’t seem all that smart to argue.

Becker placed himself at the head of the table, like a mimicry of the lord of the castle. “You must be hungry. Eat.”

Lyle gazed at the platters, not feeling hungry at all. Was the food only an enchantment? Did it simply pop into existence, out of nothing at all? That didn’t sound very appealing.

But still, with Becker watching him from the end of the table, his eyes gleaming almost like a cat’s, Lyle didn’t think he could refuse. He yanked a leg off a chicken and grabbed a warm bread roll from beneath folds of cloth in a basket.

The food tasted substantial enough. It might have been good, even, if Lyle’s stomach hadn’t been so twisted up in knots. He ate silently, chewing slowly and carefully, every bite like ashes in his mouth. He hadn’t longed for home so fiercely since he’d been a boy, leaving his mother behind for the first time to play at being soldiers with Ryan.

After some prolonged creepy staring, Becker started to eat as well. He didn’t move his hood and he ate awkwardly, those long claw-like nails all too evident. They clicked every time he raised his glass.

By the time Lyle could no longer force himself to take another bite, it had likely been the longest period of silence in his entire life. Becker rose to his feet and Lyle pushed his chair back immediately.

“I have few rules,” Becker told him.

Lyle walked around the table to move closer to his jailor, but not too close. “All right.” That was for the best. Lyle was terrible at following rules.

“You may not leave the grounds. Any door that will not open for you means you may not pass.”

Becker stopped talking. Lyle waited. Becker didn’t say anything more.

“And?” Lyle prompted.

If his face had not been hidden in darkness, Lyle suspected Becker would have looked puzzled. “That is all.”

“Oh. Really? That’s it?” That didn’t seem so terrible. Aside from the not leaving ever part.

“Yes.” And then Becker lifted his hood.

All Lyle could do was stare. Becker’s skin was tinted grey like stone and his black hair hung limply to his shoulders, not quite hiding the way his ears were long and pointed, or the small horns that jutted out on either side of his head. His eyes were large and glowed with an otherworldly light and his teeth, where Becker slightly bared them, more closely resembled an animal’s fangs than a human’s teeth.

Lyle knew he should be afraid. He had seen the mess of the creature outside and he was imprisoned here, on his own, where no one could hear him scream.

He wasn’t afraid, though. He didn’t know why Becker was showing him his face, but he wasn’t afraid.

Becker replaced his hood. He hid his hands within the folds of his cloak. “Now you needn’t wonder just how hideous I am,” he said.

“You aren’t hideous,” Lyle said, not even sure why he said it, except that it was true. “I was expecting… I don’t know what I was expecting, but not that.”

There was a long pause and then Becker said, the words slow and modulated, “Will you lie with me tonight?”

“No,” Lyle burst out, shocked. He almost thought he had imagined it, so incongruous was the question.

Becker turned away, having had no discernible reaction to Lyle’s outburst. “Very well. I will show you to your room.”

All Lyle could do was follow. He followed Becker down another long, dim hall and up a winding staircase until Becker stopped before a wooden door at the end of another hall.

The bed chamber was larger than any Lyle had ever seen, with a massive, curtained bed along one wall. The curtains over the window were drawn closed and there was a mahogany desk with a matching wardrobe and bookcase. All Lyle could think was that he didn’t even have anything to put away.

“Consider this chamber your refuge for I will never set foot in it as long as you are under my roof,” Becker said from behind him, his low voice startling. “If you ever decide that I no longer repulse you, you may come to me of your own accord.” With that, he vanished through the door.

Lyle stared at the wood. He wished he had the faintest clue what the hell was going on.

-

In the morning, Lyle made his way back to the dining hall, glad he had a good sense of direction as he suspected he would have got hopelessly lost otherwise. Becker was nowhere to be seen but the table was again set with more food than two people could ever hope to eat.

His stomach grumbled and Lyle put aside his qualms. If he was going to live here, he was going to have to get used to the possibly enchanted food.

The rest of the day he spent exploring. He found the kitchen, along with the pantry and the larder, a huge library, empty bed chambers, the largest bath he had ever been able to dream of (already filled with steaming water, as if waiting for him - Lyle had been unable to resist), a parlour, a wide open hall clearly meant for parties and dancing, a music room. All the curtains were drawn tightly shut, no natural light leaking in anywhere. Outside he found stables (but no horses), a grove of trees, gardens, even a pond with a fountain that no longer worked.

What he didn’t find was a single living person. The castle was entirely deserted.

Lyle didn’t find Becker, either. He wasn’t sure if that was good or not. Probably good. He was still confused about what exactly had happened last night.

When Lyle was hungry, he returned to the dining hall and ate. Once at midday, and once in the evening. He wondered why Becker did not come to eat as well. He wondered if Becker stayed hidden on purpose.

He went to the great library, in search of a book to pass the time with. Lyle had had little occasion for books before, but he supposed things were entirely different now. He was glad his mother had thought it so important that he know how to read - he didn’t fancy asking Becker for lessons.

The library might have been bigger than Lyle’s entire house. There were stairs leading up to a second level and steps on wheels so that a person could reach the highest shelves. Lyle had no idea where to begin.

“Do you like stories?”

Lyle dropped the book he had just grabbed. From an armchair in the corner, Becker’s eyes gleamed. His hands rested on his knees, the claws curving.

“I don’t know,” Lyle answered, stooping to retrieve the fallen book. He wasn’t sure where it was supposed to go back.

“Would you like to find out?”

“I think so.”

Becker gestured with his long fingers to the chair across from him. “Sit. I will tell you one.”

Lyle shoved the book onto the edge of a random shelf and went to sit down. “Didn’t you want to eat?”

“I ate.”

“Oh. It’s only, I never saw you.”

“I prefer to keep my solitude.”

Lyle wanted to ask why the hell Becker had enlisted a forced houseguest then, but he didn’t. He did have _some_ tact. “I could leave you alone, if you want.”

“No,” Becker said, the refusal coming a little bit too quickly. “I meant only that I prefer to take my meals in solitude. I… don’t like to eat in front of people.”

He was lonely, Lyle realised. Lonely and ashamed of himself. It made Lyle feel sad. “You were going to tell me a story?”

“Yes. Yes, of course.” Becker seemed to settle himself, the discomfort floating away when he started to speak. His voice, so harsh-seeming the night before, had turned into an easy, pleasant timbre, his accent like those of the nobles who sometimes passed through the village, but with a slightly softened edge, as he spoke around the fangs.“This story is set in a castle, not unlike this one, but larger and grander and filled with people. It is the first day of the new year, long, long ago, and the king is holding a feast at court.”

Lyle listened, enthralled, as Becker painted a picture of happier times than these, of mirth and jollity, a time of adventures. He told of a huge green knight riding into the hall on a green horse, inviting the court to play a friendly game, a friendly game involving axes. He told of the young knight who took up the challenge, beheading the green knight only to see him pick up his severed head and remind the young man of the terms of the game, that now he must seek out the green knight in a year and a day to have the stroke returned.

The knight, after a fraught journey through the woods, had arrived at a castle, meeting its lord, when Becker suddenly stopped.

“Surely that’s not the end,” Lyle said, vaguely surprised at how eager he was to find out what happened next.

Instead of answering, Becker stood up in the slow, creaking manner of his, and disappeared amongst the shelves.

Uncertain of what to do, Lyle got up, too, and went after him. When he found Becker, standing in front of a shelf on the second level and reaching up, Lyle only waited. Becker gave him a slim volume. “So you may read it,” he said. “It will be better in the words it was meant to be told in.”

Lyle traced his fingers over the lettering on the cover. “I liked how you told it,” he said honestly.

Becker seemed startled. “You needn’t humour me.”

“I’m not. I don’t really do that sort of thing.”

“Then, I thank you.” Becker’s reply sounded stiff, like he was unused to such wild displays of kindness.

“Will you tell me the rest?” Lyle asked. “I’ll read this, too, but I’d like you to tell me the rest.”

Eventually Becker nodded. They sat back in their armchairs and Becker told the story of Gawain and Bertilak and the mysterious green knight until the candles nearly burned out.

-

The second day of Lyle’s punishment passed much the same as the first. He discovered a few more locked doors, blocking off entire sections of the castle. He spent a good deal of time in the extensive gardens, walking and even pulling up weeds and breaking up dead branches. It felt good to use his hands and to be in the fresh air. Even though Lyle drew the curtains and opened the windows wide in every room he stayed in, the castle remained somewhat musty and stuffy.

Becker again remained elusive until the hour had grown late. Lyle sought him out, not knowing exactly why he did so, and found him in the parlour by a roaring fire. To Lyle it felt too warm, but he thought perhaps the heat was good for Becker’s apparently aching bones.

“I’ve been reading the book you gave me,” Lyle volunteered. He had sat with it in the sunshine, on a small bench near the pond. “I like it, but I still like the way you told the story.”

“I’m glad,” Becker said. “I know you don’t want to be here, but I hope you won’t be miserable.”

“I’m not,” Lyle said, because it was true. He missed Ryan and Claudia and the people he cared about, he missed sharing drinks in the tavern and laughing over stupid jokes, but as far as punishments went, he could imagine far worse than this. He wasn’t happy, exactly, and he wished for home, but he wasn’t miserable.

“Of course. I can’t imagine how you wouldn’t have the time of your life trapped in a run-down, enchanted castle ruled by a beast,” Becker said in a dry tone.

Lyle snorted, unable to stop himself. A sarcastic beast, apparently. “What manner of being are you, if it isn’t too rude to ask?”

It was. Even Lyle knew that was rude and he didn’t have a head for such things.

But Becker said only, “Whether I am a beast, a demon, or a man, what does it matter?”

“I should think it matters quite a lot to you.”

After Lyle’s overly earnest statement, Becker’s hesitation stretched. Finally he said, “The story of how I came to be what I am is a long one.”

“Seems to me that all I have is time for stories.” It didn’t hurt that Lyle liked listening to Becker talk.

Becker regarded him with those queerly bright eyes and then gave a nod of his head.

He began to speak, softly; his voice almost lilting in its rhythm, and Lyle was immediately captivated. “This castle was not always empty and I did not always look like this. There was a time when these halls sang with music and dancing and laughter, when there was nothing but light and beauty, not all of this gloom and shadow. There was a time when I was fair to look upon, when I was the sort of man lords would seek to marry their daughters to. I was desired by both men and women, for many reasons, and I was never without company.

“But though I had riches enough, any marriage to me would have been a misery. I was vain, proud, and arrogant, and in my foolishness I hurt people, so many people. I hurt them without thought, without care. They were nothing but a diversion to me, an amusement, a way to pass the hours. I toyed with my lovers and played with their emotions, because I could. Because they wanted me, and I wanted only for myself.

“I wasted my family’s money. I gambled, I threw extravagant parties, and I purchased beautiful things I did not need only to discard them when something new caught my eye. I never worked a day in my life. My home teemed with servants, fulfilling my every whim, and I did not know a single one of their names. I spoke sharply and lost my temper, I would dismiss them for a moment’s mistake with no thought for how they might go hungry, how they might have children counting on their meagre earnings.

“My mortal mistake came when I wounded one whom a sorceress held dear to her heart. She cursed me with this body. She made it so that I would encounter only scorn and disgust, so that I would feel a measure of the pain and suffering I had inflicted upon others in my heartlessness. She made my outward appearance a reflection of the vileness of my soul. I thought… I thought I would die, the pain was so terrible, but I did not. That would have been too easy.”

Becker finally fell silent, the echo of his words hanging in the air.

Lyle realised that all he felt was sorrow. “She cursed you to be like this forever?”

“Near enough that it may as well be.”

“Is there nothing that can be done?”

“Nothing within the realm of possibility.”

“That seems like cruel and unusual punishment if you ask me.”

Becker stared towards the fire behind the grate, the light reflecting in his eyes. “You would not say so if you knew of the things I have done.”

Lyle understood the desire for vengeance, to force people to pay for the wrongs they have done you and those you love. But he could not see how this was right, to condemn a man for eternity for the crimes of his youth, with no hope of forgiveness or redemption in spite of his obvious sorrow and repentance. Becker would pay for his sins with loneliness and misery for all of his days.

No wonder he had sought companionship in any way he could.


	2. Chapter 2

Becker gave Lyle fine clothes to wear. The castle was filled with them and Lyle didn’t want to ask to whom they had belonged. Maybe they were all Becker’s. Maybe they had belonged to his family, or to his erstwhile lovers. He had the impression not all of Becker’s lovers had been women.

He hoped the clothes were only Becker’s.

They were far nicer than anything Lyle had ever owned, soft breeches and shirts of the best material, coats and jackets and warm cloaks and high boots of supple leather. Beneath his heavy cloak, Becker didn’t seem to wear anything half so fine. Lyle wondered if it was because his back was so bent; perhaps his body had been so warped by the curse that nothing fit him properly any more. Or maybe it was another sort of punishment to force upon himself. That sounded like Becker.

But for as sad as Becker was, and for as gloomy company as he could sometimes be, Lyle came to realise that he did not resent his long incarceration in the castle. He had enough to occupy his days with, reading and exploring the castle and wandering the grounds. He became something of a gardener and also an expert on birds, the only living creatures to be found within the gates. He plucked out notes on the piano in the music room, remembering the beautiful songs Claudia could play and wishing that he could emulate them. He sang bawdy ballads loudly and off-key and he thought Becker listened sometimes, though Lyle could never be certain.

It was true that he longed for more excitement, for the days and nights he had spent in Ryan’s service. He longed for a horse, for the feel of the wind rushing against his face. When he imagined his future unfolding exactly like this, every day a near mirror of the one before, it made his skin crawl.

Yet it wasn’t so bad, somehow.

Best of all were the evenings, when Becker would tell stories. Fairy tales and adventures, stories of Becker’s ancestors and wild imaginings. Sometimes they talked for hours and sometimes Becker even laughed, gruff from disuse. Lyle learned that Becker even had a sense of humour, very dry.

He thought that Becker was happier now, with him. The knowledge was more cheering than Lyle would ever have dreamed.

-

Weeks turned into months. The first snows came, covering the grounds, thick and white, perfect like a painting.

Well, perfect until Lyle went outside, anyway. He amused himself by building a little snow fort, manning it with snowballs. He pretended to be gearing up for an invasion, imagining Ryan barking orders, all of the lads with him. It surprised him how much the memory stung, how much his heart ached with the knowledge he would never see any of them again.

“Are you concerned we may be attacked?”

Lyle looked up at Becker’s mild inquiry, nearly putting a fist through his snow wall by accident. “I’ve learned to always prepare for any eventuality.”

Becker nodded solemnly. “As any good soldier would.” His cloak dragged across the ground as he walked, covering up his faintly uneven footsteps. “I’m not sure, however, that your little balls of snow will offer us much protection, nor will your wall.”

An idea came to Lyle. It was a terrible idea, as all Lyle’s ideas were. As all the best ideas were.

He picked up a snowball, tossing it in his hand. He threw it. It came to pieces against Becker’s back.

Becker stopped walking. He turned, so slowly, until he was peering at Lyle from within his hood. “This means war, I take it.”

For a moment, Lyle couldn’t do anything. Then his face split into a grin. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Stooping, Becker scooped up a handful of snow and formed it, tossing it swiftly but not fast enough to get Lyle, who had ducked behind his fort. “Too frightened to face me?” Becker sounded amused.

“I prefer to call it utilising all of my options and recouping to form a plan,” Lyle called back, gathering up several of his pre-formed snowballs. A basket would have been useful.

“A plan?” Becker repeated, his voice sounding as though it was coming from a different direction. He’d moved, then. “That doesn’t seem your style.” A bit to the east.

“I can be responsible when I want to be,” Lyle insisted and jumped up, heaving two snowballs in quick succession.

His snowballs hit nothing but the snowy expanse of ground.

Cold slush hit the back of Lyle’s neck. He yelped and flew around. “Hey!” He took another snowball to the face before he could recover. Distraction. So obvious, and yet he had fallen for it.

Becker’s rough laugh rang out, his lips curving in a smile that bared the tips of his fangs.

“Oh, I’ll give you a war,” Lyle said, smiling to match Becker.

They were both cold and wet when they eventually agreed to a draw, only because Lyle had stopped being able to feel the tips of his nose and his fingers and Becker was breathing too harshly, his limping gait more pronounced. They both headed inside, dripping over the floors as the snow melted.

In the parlour, a fire was blazing and mugs of hot chocolate were steaming. Lyle looked at Becker, the faintest rosy tinge to his greyish cheeks, and for what was probably the first time he considered that he could be happy staying here, after all.

-

They started to take their meals together more often than not. Becker stopped being so afraid of letting Lyle see him at his more ungainly moments and Lyle knew that was important, but he wasn’t exactly sure what it meant. He wasn’t certain what he had done to make Becker more comfortable with him but he was glad of it all the same.

One night, then, at dinner time, Lyle had only just stepped into the dining hall when he exclaimed, “Becker!” and ran forward.

Becker was merely a huddled shape near the far corner, seemingly having stumbled. Lyle knelt beside him, instinctively reaching to wrap his arms around Becker’s shoulders and help him to his feet again.

Becker, however, immediately recoiled. “Don’t touch me!” he said, nearly tumbling over completely as he jerked from Lyle’s grasp. His face looked wild, his fangs bared almost like an aggressive animal, looking to protect itself.

Lyle held up his hands, trying to appear non-threatening. “Okay, all right, not touching, look.”

His breathing quick and uneven, Becker pushed himself away from Lyle, struggling backwards in what was nearly a crawl. He sat there, fear reflecting in his eyes, while he regained control of his composure.

All the while, Lyle did nothing but watch him, afraid to misstep and make it worse. He didn’t know what he’d done wrong but clearly his error had been grievous.

Finally Becker heaved himself up to his knees and then to his feet, leaning heavily on the sideboard. He shrugged his cloak fully back in place from where it had shifted to bare Becker’s stooping shoulders in their thin, dark shirt.

Lyle got to his feet as well, still staying carefully back, keeping his hands at his sides. “I wouldn’t hurt you,” he said, hesitantly, not at all sure what he should do.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Becker scoffed, his lips forming a scowl. “There is nothing you could do that would hurt me.”

That wasn’t true, not at all, Lyle knew, not in the physical sense. He felt that he had hurt Becker terribly indeed, unknowingly, those months ago when they had first met. He remembered his dismay at coming to stay in the castle and how he had surely made no secret of it, and he remembered his rushed and emphatic refusal of Becker’s… offer.

“Because you’re the beast?” Lyle asked, because he’d never known when to keep his mouth shut.

Becker seemed to coil more tightly in on himself, his knuckles squeezing around the edge of the sideboard. He said nothing.

“And who am I but the helpless damsel in distress, left at your mercy?” Lyle tried for a wry smile.

His scowl deepening, Becker said, “Unluckily for you, you haven’t got a prince riding to your rescue.”

“Well, I never had much use for princes anyway. Bit of a soppy lot, don’t you think?”

“I always thought so,” Becker agreed with a bit of a lofty note. On a less eventful day, Lyle was going to poke into that because he felt sure there was a good story or two to be heard.

“Good, then, no princes,” Lyle said, taking a slow step forward. “I don’t need a rescue, anyway.”

“Don’t you?” Becker was still gripping the sideboard.

“No.” Lyle was now standing directly in front of Becker and he raised his hands slowly, treating Becker like the scared animal he wasn’t, giving him time to put a stop to it if he wanted. “Just… Becker, just let me--”

Becker had that wild look again but he wasn’t trying to run. “Don’t, don’t, you shouldn’t…”

“I won’t hurt you,” Lyle said, and pressed his hands to Becker’s shoulders.

Becker’s eyes fell shut and he went rigidly still. “You shouldn’t touch me,” he said quietly, gritted between his teeth.

“Why not?” Lyle gently rubbed his hands down Becker’s arms. “I want to.”

“You… No, you don’t. Stop it,” Becker said, and then he did wrench himself away. “You don’t. You have made that very clear,” he said fiercely, and turned on his heel, leaving as quickly as his broken gait would allow.

Lyle watched him and knew that he should leave it, he should let Becker have his time and his space.

But Lyle had never been one to let rationality stop him.

He used the advantage of health and mobility granted to him and stopped Becker before he could get farther than the hall outside the door. Staring Becker squarely in the face and setting a deliberate hand upon Becker’s waist, he said, “I asked you once what you were.”

“I remember.” Becker’s eyes dropped to Lyle’s hand, staring in near incomprehension, before returning to Lyle’s face.

“You said it didn’t matter, but I know that it does. It matters because you think you’re a monster. But you aren’t.”

“Look at me,” Becker hissed. “I’m the sort of thing mothers tell their children stories about to keep them in bed.”

Lyle’s hand tightened around Becker’s waist. “You aren’t. Someone _did_ this to you, and maybe you deserved it once, but you don’t any more. You deserve to have a real life, and… and someone who loves you.”

“And who would possibly love me?” Becker sounded desperate and almost like he might cry. Lyle wondered if he even could cry, if he’d wanted to. “Who could love such a beast?”

_I could,_ rose unbidden to Lyle’s tongue, and he choked it down. He didn’t even know why he’d thought it except that he was suddenly gripped with the mad realisation that it was true. He could, he could, if Becker would ever accept him. If Becker would accept him after his painful rejection, and if Lyle had been the sort of person who… The sort of person someone would want to spend their lives with.

In Becker’s eyes, Lyle could read his loneliness and his pain, the pain he used to shield himself from the world. He would never believe it and Lyle didn’t know how to say it, even if he’d felt he could.

“Someone who is worthy of you,” Lyle said eventually and Becker rather forcibly grabbed Lyle’s hand and pushed it from his waist.

“You must tell me when you find such a horrid creature, then,” he said and swept off down the hall.

Lyle let him go, feeling sick deep inside himself. Becker’s nails had dug into his palm, scoring bloody marks, but he didn’t notice even as the blood dripped onto the floor.

-

Becker hid in his chambers all the next day. He was like a child sulking and Lyle almost wanted to laugh, if he hadn’t felt so guilty about provoking Becker’s mood in the first place. The castle was a gloomy place with its master hiding.

In the end, Lyle went to seek Becker himself. He worried that the castle would bar the way, but instead, every door opened for him. He wondered if the magic of the place, or whatever it was, had only Becker’s best interests at heart. He wondered if he had been accepted as something good for Becker.

Becker’s door, however, would not swing open. Lyle supposed that was only fair. He knocked loudly. It was a series of bangs more than knocks, really. He didn’t want Becker to have the excuse of not hearing him.

“I won’t stop until you open the door,” he called through the thick wood. Probably that was rude, particularly as Becker himself had made such a point of never bothering Lyle in his own bed chamber.

It didn’t make him stop, though.

Eventually Becker pulled the door open. “You are the most stubborn, annoying, aggravating, perplexing creature.”

“How lovely of you to say,” Lyle said.

“What is it you want?”

“Only… only to say, I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable.”

Becker sagged slightly. “It is not right that you should apologise to me.”

“Why?” Lyle asked, confused. “It was my offense.”

“Because you… you are not…” Becker seemed unable to continue.

Lyle felt suddenly angry. “Because I’m the poor victim here, and you are the cruel monster? That’s rubbish! Stop making yourself out to be worse than you are, like all the troubles of the entire world are your fault, and everyone else is a blameless innocent! You aren’t a monster, you _aren’t,_ and you have been nothing but kind to me when it was my error that led me here in the first place.”

“An error much to be regretted,” Becker said, ignoring all but the unimportant point.

“Stop it!” Lyle demanded and before he knew what he was doing, he had pressed his hands to either side of Becker’s face.

Becker went still at once, the grey of his skin paling.

“A man’s face,” Lyle said, not letting go, “does not reveal what is in his heart.”

Beneath Lyle’s palms, Becker felt still and cold as a statue. “There is nothing in my heart but cruelty.”

“That’s a lie. Your heart is anything but cruel. A monster would not respect my boundaries. A monster would not sit with me and tell me stories, nor would he laugh at my stupid jokes or ask to learn my rude tavern songs. A monster would not be kind and good.”

“I am not good,” Becker whispered. “You would not say so if you knew--”

“If I knew what? That you’d made mistakes, years and years ago? Mistakes can be forgiven.”

“Not all things should be forgiven.” Becker sounded utterly wretched, as though he could see naught but endless misery ahead.

“And who should decide that? You?” Lyle scoffed. “I’m not much of a church-going man, but I still believe that we don’t get to make that decision-- nor is it left to sorcery and witchcraft.”

“It isn’t as simple as you make it sound.”

“It’s exactly that simple-- you are the one who chooses to make it complicated. You did wrong, and now you’re sorry for it, and that should be enough. That’s enough for me.” Lyle paused only a moment to catch his breath because he knew what needed to be said. “Because you know what? I’ve made mistakes, too. I have bedded women for a night and left them, I’ve had relations with those I did not even bother to learn the name of. I’ve had fights with men because I was drunk and wanted a brawl. I’ve killed. None of that makes me a monster, Becker, and what you’ve done does not make you one, either. No matter what bloody curse was put upon you.”

Lyle let his hands fall from Becker’s face. Becker did not move, nor did he speak.

“Are you going to kick me out now?” Lyle asked. Even the thought made him unhappy. “Now you know I’m an arse, too?”

“No,” Becker said, with not so much as a pause. “No, I would never do that.”

-

It was after dinner one night in the last days of winter and Lyle was sitting by a window, the curtains drawn back so he could watch the snow fall. It seemed likely it would be the last snowfall of the season. In a minute he was going to the library, he had decided, to pester Becker into telling a story. He wanted to sit by the fire with a hot drink, preferably alcoholic, and let Becker’s voice lull him into contentment.

Except the sudden sound of Becker’s footsteps against the floor jerked him out of his pleasant imaginings.

“Come with me,” Becker said, and Lyle followed.

Becker took him up flights of stairs to a room in a tower which had previously been off-limits to him. The door creaked on its hinges and the furniture inside was covered with large white sheets. The entire room smelled of dust and decay, like it was a room entirely unvisited.

Lyle’s eyes were drawn to the window, in front of which sat a wooden table, uncovered and carefully polished. It gleamed faintly and appeared out of place amidst the air of disuse. It was to this table that Becker went, removing an object from the surface.

Becker handed Lyle a gilded mirror, ornate and beautiful. “Look,” he said. “Look and the mirror will show you what you seek.”

“What I seek?” Lyle repeated, puzzled, but Becker did not offer anything more and so Lyle turned his gaze to the mirror.

The shining surface looked like any ordinary mirror but after a moment it seemed as though light swirled in the depths and then images formed. Before Lyle’s wide eyes appeared the people he had left behind, Captain Ryan and the men Lyle had called his brothers. “Is this real?” he breathed, and then gasped.

In the mirror he could see the village, overrun with beasts. He saw Ryan running, he saw people he knew struck down, he saw blood on the ground. He could see their lips moving but no sounds reached his ears. He could imagine the screaming.

Lyle shoved the mirror away from himself and demanded, “Is this real?”

Becker’s eyes were deep and sorrowful. “It is real.”

“They were dying! Everyone I knew, and here I am, stuck in this miserable place, useless!”

“The mirror…” Becker hesitated. “The mirror does not show what cannot be changed.”

Lyle blinked. “What?”

“What you’ve seen, it hasn’t happened yet. The future isn’t set in stone. You can help them.”

“Help them? How?” Lyle had never felt so sodding _useless,_ knowing that people he loved were in danger and he couldn’t do anything about it.

“You may go to them.”

“But… I thought… You told us our punishment would be to stay here always.”

“I think you have paid for your crime over and again. I give you leave to go.”

“Even if I do not return?”

“You must do what you think is right,” Becker said, his voice heavy with pain.

Lyle grasped his hand. “I will return. I promise you, I will come back.”

Becker turned away, his hand sliding from Lyle’s fingers. “I will await you,” he said, but Lyle knew Becker did not believe he would ever come back.

Well, that was all right. Lyle enjoyed proving people wrong.

-

It was night when Lyle arrived at the village, his feet aching from the long walk and his nose and his ears nearly numb from the cold. He approached the tavern, firelight glowing from beneath the closed door, knowing that if Ryan and the lads were about, that was where they would be.

He pulled the door open, the warmth of the tavern hitting him like a blast to the face. The loud chatter ceased immediately as every head turned towards him.

Lyle shifted his weight and smiled crookedly. “I’m generally the bloke who makes the party, not the one who spoils it.”

There was a sudden avalanche of movement as everyone swarmed around him, clapping his back and gripping his hand as though they all wanted a touch. Ryan was at the lead. “Lyle! Lyle, did you escape? Is the beast dead?”

“No!” The mere thought of it horrified Lyle. “No, I didn’t kill him. Goddamn,” he muttered. “He let me leave.”

Brow furrowed, Ryan repeated, “He let you leave?”

“Have you gone daft since I left? Yes, he let me leave.”

“But I thought--”

“Yeah, yeah, punishment, stay there forever, all that bollocks.” Lyle pushed away from the group of his old friends surrounding him, feeling inexplicably irritated and smothered. He didn’t want to talk about Becker because no one would understand. None of them knew him, and they wouldn’t - Becker was his.

“The man clearly needs a drink,” David Owen spoke up, waving to Sarah behind the bar. “Come on, let’s all drink to Lyle’s safe return.”

Lyle nodded gratefully at him and Owen’s mouth twitched in the hint of a smile, though his eyes were filled with concern. He determined that he was going to have to make an effort to not let Owen catch him alone.

-

Too many tankards of ale to count later, it wasn’t Owen that cornered Lyle. It was Claudia, all flushed cheeks and warm eyes.

“I know what you did for us,” she said, far too earnestly. “For Tom and me, I know what you did. Jon, you shouldn’t have done it, but you will always have my thanks.”

“Was nothing,” Lyle muttered, unable to look her in the face and feeling too drunk for any sort of real conversation. Who knew what would come out of his mouth.

“It wasn’t nothing,” she said, and moved forward to hug him, holding him tightly. “Are you really all right, Jon? Was it all right? If you… If something happened, I could never--”

“Damn it, Claudia, I’m fine,” Lyle said, struggling to disentangle himself from her embrace. “It wasn’t… _He_ wasn’t… He let me leave, so I could take care of some things, and then I’m going to go back.”

“To fulfill your sentence?” Claudia looked horrified, eyes wide and unblinking.

“Because I _want_ to.”

She didn’t say anything, and then she asked simply, “Why?”

_Why,_ Lyle repeated to himself. Damned if he knew. “Because he isn’t what you think he is,” he said, the words tumbling from his lips. “Because he’s lonely, and he hates himself, and he doesn’t deserve any of it, and he is good to me. Because he’s... he’s my... he’s my friend, and I...” Lyle trailed off.

“Jon,” Claudia said quietly, her voice soothing like a balm, and he knew that she was trying to understand but she couldn’t. She couldn’t, and how could he expect her to? She probably thought he’d gone mad, that he was developing an attachment to his captor, merely a sick delusion. Like he had some kind of mental ailment.

It wasn’t like that and none of them would ever get it. “I need some air,” Lyle said and pushed himself up and out of his seat, away from the table and away from Claudia. He could feel her eyes on him as he made his unsteady way to the door and he knew that she would speak to Ryan as soon as he was out the door.

Bugger them all. Let them talk.

Lyle was going to help them face what was coming and then he was going back to Becker, because he belonged there more than he did here.

-

The following morning Lyle was sick in a way he hadn’t been in ages, his head pounding and his stomach roiling with nausea. He was in Ryan’s spare bed and couldn’t remember how he’d got there.

Claudia came in with sympathy in her face and a miracle cure in her hands, a drink that tasted as bad as anything but made him feel almost immediately better. “I’ll make you something to eat when you’re up to it,” she offered, quietly so as not to provoke his headache, and then left him alone.

When Lyle eventually managed to drag himself out of bed, he had a quick wash and went downstairs, finding Claudia and Ryan talking in low voices at the table. Considering that they stopped as he came into view, it wouldn’t have been a stretch to assume they’d been talking about him.

Claudia got up from her seat. “Ready for a bite to eat?”

Lyle considered. “Actually, that would be great.”

Ryan nodded sagely. “Claudia’s special cure works wonders. Not sure I want to know what’s in it, though.”

Claudia smiled and squeezed his shoulder before heading for the breadbox. “Best you don’t know.”

“That makes me feel better,” Lyle said and dropped into the chair across from Ryan. “You should know why I’m here.”

Ryan’s expression turned wary, like he was afraid Lyle would snap again. “Yeah?”

“I came because you’re in danger. One of those portals is going to open again and... it won’t be pretty.”

“How do you know?”

“Doesn’t matter, I just do. You need to trust me, Ryan.”

The focus of Ryan’s gaze flicked down to Lyle’s hands where they rested on the table. After a moment, he nodded again. “Always.”

Lyle felt his shoulders droop, the tension released. It was nice to know some things wouldn’t change.

Ryan turned to business. “The creatures?”

“Big, and more than one. Too many.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know where exactly it will open, but they’re going to come to the village.”

“When?”

Lyle shook his head helplessly. “I don’t know.”

Ryan exhaled a breath quietly. “That’s all right. It’s enough that you could warn us.”

Lyle only hoped that was true.


	3. Chapter 3

Days went by. Lyle went on patrol with the lads, he had dinner with Claudia and Ryan, he had drinks in the tavern. His life started to feel normal again, like it used to, but for the niggling feeling in his head that it wasn’t right. Something was coming, something he had to stop, and that was the only reason he was there.

He missed Becker. He wondered if Becker thought of him. He wondered if Becker tolerated his presence only because he was so alone or if Becker truly cared for Lyle himself.

Lyle wanted to believe it was the latter. He was afraid he was flattering himself.

It was dusk, the last light fading from the winter sky. Lyle had gone to sit on the steps outside Ryan’s house, giving Ryan and Claudia some time alone. He had been staying with them as his own house was now occupied by a new arrival in the village, a young man called Stephen Hart, who apparently was an old acquaintance of Professor Nicholas Cutter.

Ryan had looked sorrowful when he’d told Lyle, like he felt he’d failed in his duty, but Lyle wasn’t a sentimental sort.

“For all you knew I was never coming back,” Lyle had said, giving Ryan’s shoulder a momentary squeeze. “It’s only a house.”

All the same, it had hurt, walking past it the first time and seeing Hart come bounding out the door. Another reminder that this wasn’t Lyle’s home any more and it never would be again, no matter how everyone pretended.

Each warm exhale left a tiny puff in the air that dissipated in front of his face. Lyle rubbed his hands together.

His thumbs were itching. That only happened when - “Something’s not right,” he said aloud, though there was no one to hear. “Something--”

That was when he heard it. The distant sound of screams.

Lyle sprang up and burst back into the house, shouting for Ryan.

Ryan came scrambling downstairs, his shirt only half on, Claudia at his heels, her hair falling in waves around her face. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“They’re here,” Lyle said shortly, going for his weapon, the sword he’d had with him on that long ago day when they had arrived at Becker’s castle, along with a crossbow and bolts Becker had given him for the journey.

He didn’t wait for Ryan because he knew he didn’t need to. “Raise help from everyone you can,” he heard Ryan saying to Claudia, followed by her resolute reply as Lyle went out the door.

The cottage where Ryan and Claudia lived was set a small distance from the heart of the village but Lyle knew the road like he knew his own body. He saw Ryan’s young neighbours on the way, Connor Temple and the pretty Abigail Maitland whom Connor had always perpetually failed to impress.

“We thought we heard--” Abby started, but Lyle didn’t bother slowing.

“Get back inside,” he told them, but even as he ran he heard the rummaging of movement that let him know they weren’t listening.

Never mind. Abby was a brave girl and knew how to handle herself, and what Connor lacked in physicality he made up for in brains and determination. If they wanted to help, so be it.

The village square was in chaos. There was blood speckled in the snow upon the ground and at least two motionless bodies that Lyle could see. He was glad he hadn’t the time to check their faces.

The creatures were as huge as they had looked in Becker’s mirror, bigger than horses, with long, fearsome teeth. They could run quickly and bound with grace in spite of their size. Lyle could see Niall Richards fending one off with two long knives drawn, darting and feinting like he was having a game, and likely enjoying it the same as if he had been.

“About time you showed your faces,” Owen called, faintly short of breath, his shoulder bloody. “Really wish you hadn’t said no to the tavern tonight.”

“Where’d they come from?” Ryan asked, slashing at one creature even as he spoke.

“The portal must be down the road,” Owen said, waving with his hand. “I expect they were attracted by the light and the noise.”

“We need to push them back that way then,” Lyle said, ushering a too curious boy into the shop behind him and barring the door.

“How do you suggest we do that?” Connor asked, his eyes wide as saucers, gripping a kitchen knife with both hands. Abby had a bow which she was making far better use of, staying back to take clear shots.

“You’re supposed to be the smart one, you tell me.” Lyle fell into place beside Ryan, each working in turn to draw the animal’s focus so the other could get a good blow in.

“They seem to like us well enough,” Connor muttered in a dark way.

“Bait? Use ourselves as bait? Sounds like a plan after my own heart,” Lyle said with a grin, ducking under a swipe of the creature’s right claws.

“Don’t go putting ideas in his head,” Ryan called to Connor. “Thank the lord that Quinn’s gone up north, or else there’d be no stopping it.”

A woman screamed, diverting Lyle’s attention. Rolling to the side and away, leaving Ryan to face their opponent alone, he drew his crossbow and loaded a bolt. A small brown-haired young woman was cowering against the side of a building, her back pressed tightly against it, as one of the beasts stood with its fangs glistening near her face.

Lyle fired one bolt, hitting the thing in its shoulder. It roared in pain, shaking its head and coming straight for Lyle, just as he’d wanted. Quickly he loaded another bolt and shot again, but the creature shifted out of the way. Lyle drew his sword instead and jabbed forward, aiming for where the heart must be. He drew blood but the creature kept coming, snapping its jaws.

Its teeth grazed the back of Lyle’s shoulder as he moved to the side but he came back up and underneath it, stabbing upwards. The beast yowled in pain as Lyle’s sword found purchase. He plunged it deeper and then pulled it out, striking upwards again until the creature fell and was still, heaving out its last breath.

The woman had sunk to her bottom, tear tracks down her cheeks. She was trembling.

“Go inside, miss,” Lyle said, wanting to hurry but trying to be as gentle as he could. Her face looked familiar and Lyle thought she must be Jess, who had arrived not long before he had left. Jess, the niece of the village steward, James Lester.

She shook her head, stubbornness glinting in her eyes. She was Lester’s blood, all right. “Not until I find my uncle.”

“Here,” Lyle said, knowing it was no good arguing and in any case, he didn’t have the time for it. He gave her his crossbow. “The bolts--”

“I know how to use it,” Jess insisted, and if they hadn’t been in such danger Lyle likely would have laughed at her indignation. “My uncle taught me to take care of myself.”

“I’m certain he did, miss,” Lyle said, and left her to it.

Across the square, he saw Owen trying to staunch the bleeding on Finn’s leg, tying a length of cloth tightly around his thigh. He started to search for Ryan but then the sound of Claudia’s voice made his blood run cold. “Tom!”

Lyle turned in time to watch Ryan disappear under the weight of one of the beasts. As he began to run, he heard the still unfamiliar sound of Stephen Hart shouting and saw him waving his arms from the road. He had what looked like half of a dead pig in his hands.

Like a beacon, the remaining creatures were drawn to him. Hart turned and ran.

Feeling torn, Lyle watched Claudia drop to her knees beside Ryan, but he knew what he had to do. He went after Stephen, calling for Abby and her bow as he went.

Stephen wasn’t even a dim form in the distance, beyond the racing creatures. In all honesty, Lyle didn’t know if the man was still alive. Perhaps they had caught him already.

They seemed to be not as fast as they had been, though. He thought maybe they were bothered by the cold. Lyle had gone through a portal, once, with Ryan, when they had first begun to appear, and the world that had met him on the other side was not the same as the place he had left. Perhaps these creatures came from a warmer land.

The magical lights shone down the road, leading into the portal. “So we’re going with the bait thing after all?” Connor asked, huffing with exertion.

Lyle hadn’t even realised the boy had come with him. He should have figured. “Simple and crazy and just as likely to kill me as work, exactly the sort of odds I like,” Lyle said.

But waiting by the portal’s entrance were Nicholas Cutter and James Lester. They were both armed with freshly butchered meat, which they tossed through the portal as the creatures came barreling down the road. Stephen, who apparently hadn’t been eaten himself, threw the rest of his pig through and skidded to a halt, going off the road.

The beasts took the bait. They went through the lights and disappeared.

Lester sniffed and dabbed at a spot of blood that had dripped onto his warm woolen coat. “I dare say that should keep the wretched things occupied. Though I don’t know why you couldn’t have got someone else to do the dirty work.”

“We thought you might like a share of the credit,” Cutter said, going over to check on Stephen, who immediately pushed him off, grumbling.

Before Lester could respond, Lyle said, “I’ve just seen your niece. She’s looking for you. Also I gave her a crossbow.”

“Oh dear God,” Lester said, and started running back towards the village.

-

Leaving Hart, Cutter, Abby, and Connor as a makeshift guard while the portal still flickered, Lyle traveled back up the road after Lester. The scene that met him in the square was still somewhat of a mess, in spite of the absence of the creatures. People were milling all over, many wounded and all trying to digest the night’s events. Lyle feared some were dead.

He found Joel Stringer and Darren Cooper, looking mostly whole, and sent them to watch the portal in case any of the beasts should like to come back through before it closed for good. That done, he went to Ryan.

Ryan’s head was cradled in Claudia’s lap and she stroked his hair tenderly. Lyle could see a trickle of blood above Ryan’s left eyebrow and worse was the bleeding gash in his abdomen, visible through the tear in his clothes. Owen was crouched at Ryan’s side, staunching the bleeding.

“Lyle,” Owen said as soon as his eyes set upon Lyle. “This needs to be stitched, get me my--”

“I can help,” said a woman’s clear voice and suddenly Jess was settling herself across from Owen. She took out a small bag, in which Lyle could see the same sort of supplies he had often witnessed Owen make use of.

“Jessica,” Lester said, stopping near them. “Your mother--”

The glare Jess directed at her uncle was not without vitriol. “You know very well that I came here to get away from my mother and I certainly won’t let you stop me in her name. I can help.”

Lester looked from her to Ryan, lying motionless in the dirt, then to Claudia’s wide, wet eyes. He nodded.

So Lyle watched as Owen and Jess set themselves to the task of saving Ryan’s life. No longer of any use, he dragged himself away from the sight and made himself useful elsewhere, getting people inside and generally attempting to reassure them that it was safe now. He hoped.

It wasn’t until much later that Ryan was well enough to speak to Lyle. They had moved him carefully into a bed in one of the rooms above the tavern, where he now lay with Claudia’s hand gripping his. He would live. “Guess you saved us after all,” Ryan said, his voice low and slightly hoarse.

“I don’t know that I did anything of the sort,” Lyle said, uncomfortably unable to do more than glance at Claudia. He should have been able to do more. This shouldn’t have happened, he’d been meant to protect them and still this -

“You warned us,” Ryan insisted. “You gave us time. You gave us time to plan for the inevitable and then you were here to help us stop it.”

Claudia rose to her feet, releasing her husband’s hand so that she could take Lyle’s. “You saw this?” she asked, her meaning clear.

Lyle shut his eyes briefly. He would never forget the sight reflected in the mirror of Ryan, dead on the ground, no matter how much it hadn’t been real. “Not…” He swallowed. “Not exactly.”

“Then how could you ever think you didn’t do any good?” She kissed his cheek. “Now go and get some sleep. Please.”

With no better option, Lyle went, though he didn’t get any sleep. Instead, he lay restless in his bed and thought of the people he hadn’t saved. He thought of Becker.

Always, he thought of Becker.

-

He stayed to help repair the destruction the creatures had wrought upon the village. He stayed to take reluctant command of the men while Ryan recovered from his injuries.

The villagers seemed to take it for granted that Lyle would stay for good. Why shouldn’t he? This was his home. The beast had not come to claim him. Why ever would he seek to leave?

But the longer he lingered, the sicker Lyle felt in his heart. He thought of Becker, alone in his castle, not losing hope that Lyle would return because he had never had any to begin with.

“I need to go,” Lyle said to Ryan as they sat in the field beyond Ryan’s house, the spring sun warming the grass.

Ryan’s eyes were on Claudia where she stood speaking with Lester and Jess, a bright happiness apparent in the warmth of her brown eyes and the rosy flush to her cheeks. “I thought you would one day soon say that to me. Why, Lyle? The beast let you go. Why would you return?”

The words, _He isn’t a beast,_ stilled on Lyle’s tongue. He was tired of trying to make people understand when they never would. “I made him a promise.”

“I don’t see that a promise made to your jailor is one you ought to keep.”

“I gave him my word.”

“Lyle--”

“I _want_ to return,” Lyle said, ripping up clods of grass with his hands. “It’s my home and Becker is my friend. I don’t expect you to understand.”

Ryan’s gaze was heavy. “I wish I did. But I won’t stop you. You know I won’t; your life is yours to live how you wish.”

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Lyle said.

-

The journey to Becker’s castle seemed shorter than his trip away from it, perhaps because Lyle felt so much lighter now. The village was safe and he had made his goodbyes, and now he was on his way to the place he belonged, to be with the one he belonged with. Whether Becker believed that or not.

Lyle would be happy to convince him, whatever it took.

The castle no longer seemed the dark, foreboding place it had all those months ago. There was green in the courtyard and birds sang in the treetops. The gates were as rundown as ever and the gardens were still something of a jungle, but perhaps it was all a matter of perspective.

The door swung open for Lyle, just as it always had for Becker. As soon as he stepped inside the dim entranceway, Lyle began calling for Becker. “Becker! Becker, I told you I would return. I hope you haven’t got too used to your solitude.”

The halls were empty but Lyle continued to speak as he sought Becker. “Lucky you didn’t place a bet because you would have lost,” he was saying as he entered the library.

There he was met by an image that made his heart sink in his chest.

“Becker!” Lyle shouted and raced across the floor to where Becker lay utterly still on the thick rug, his hood pushed back from his face. “Becker, Becker, please,” he said, gathering Becker to himself.

Becker’s eyes were closed and his skin had a pallor that looked deathly even for him. He seemed not even to breathe.

Lyle touched Beckler’s face, rubbed his hands up and down Becker’s arms, speaking to him, shaking him a little even, anything to try to get a response. But Becker was limp in Lyle’s grasp, no signs of life in his body at all.

He was too late.

“I’m sorry,” Lyle said, “I’m sorry,” over and over, holding Becker’s body to himself. “I should have come sooner, I should never have left. I should never have left you alone,” he said and realised he was crying, his tears dripping down to splatter onto Becker’s face.

Once more, “I’m sorry,” and then he pressed a kiss to Becker’s mouth because he didn’t know what else to do, he wanted to, and he should have done it long ago. “I think I loved you,” he whispered.

A sudden warmth seemed to radiate from Becker’s body, a warmth Lyle could feel through layers of clothing. A glow grew brighter and brighter until Lyle’s eyes ached and he had to shield them, like he was staring into the sun.

The light receded and Lyle dropped his hand. He looked at Becker, closed his eyes, and opened them again.

Lying in his arms was a young man, slim and broad-shouldered. He had pale, smooth skin with long lashes curving against his face and soft, thick, dark hair. He was also breathing, slowly and steadily.

“Becker?” Lyle said, uncertain of what he was seeing, but it had to be Becker, right? It had to be Becker, Becker before the curse, because who else could it be? “Becker, please.” He stroked his hand over Becker’s cheek until his eyes fluttered open. They were brown, nearly hazel.

Becker touched a finger to Lyle’s face, brushing against the wetness. “You’re crying,” he murmured.

Lyle laughed, choked and halting. “Wasting my tears over you, I thought you were dead!”

Becker was now staring at his own hand, flexing and extending his fingers, disbelief etched in his features. “You broke it. You broke the curse.”

“You told me it was unbreakable.”

“I thought… I did not dare to believe it could ever be done.” Becker’s words were slow, as though he was so taken aback he could hardly make himself form the words.

“So, what? You just needed to die?”

“No. I needed someone to love me.”

“Is that all,” Lyle said, and gripped Becker’s hand. His skin felt strange without the roughness, without the long clawed fingers. “It wasn’t so hard.”

“Nearly too late.”

The realisation came to Lyle quickly. “That was why you showed me the mirror. It was a test, and I was nearly too late. I nearly killed you because I stayed away.You couldn’t, I don’t know, have told me you were _dying?_ ”

“You needed to return because you wanted to, not because you felt you had to. Not because of guilt.”

“Because I loved you.”

“Yes,” Becker said softly. “Because you loved me, even though I was a beast.”

“You weren’t,” Lyle said, the argument old and familiar, and helped Becker get to his feet.

His clothes hung too loosely on his frame now and Becker shed the heavy cloak, clearly not having any need to hide himself any longer. It pooled around his feet.

Becker stared at it and then lifted his gaze to Lyle’s face. He looked lost, as though he could not comprehend what was happening. Lyle understood the feeling.

“What do I do now?” Becker asked, his tone as lost as his expression.

“Live,” Lyle said firmly. “Live the life that’s been taken from you for so long. You have a second chance now to be the man I know you really are.”

“Live,” Becker repeated, raising his hand to press it to the front of Lyle’s shoulder. “And what will you do?”

Well, there was no question about it, really. Lyle knew what he wanted - it only remained to be seen whether Becker wanted it, too. “Can I stay with you, Becker? Can I stay here with you?”

Becker’s mouth looked soft and sweet, the corners curving upwards. “That was your punishment, I believe.”

Lyle let himself break into a wide smile. “I’ve certainly had worse punishments.”

“There is... There is one thing,” Becker said, almost shyly. “My name is Hilary.”

“Hilary,” Lyle said, resting his fingers on Becker’s - Hilary’s - hip. “Mine is Jon.”

**_End_ **


End file.
